by Harper Sloan
I had good intentions in trying to dissuade our attraction, but now that I’ve had her, I know I won’t be able to give this up. She isn’t the only one who felt that emptiness disappear when we met. She will never know how right she was. I might not know what I’m doing when it comes to being in a relationship, but I know one thing without a shadow of a doubt—the only thing impossible about us being together would be if we deny us each other.
“What’s your biggest regret,” I ask him. My head against his chest, I draw my finger in lazy swirls, tracing each peak and valley of his abdominal muscles.
“Kind of heavy for after-sex cuddles, isn’t it?” he lightheartedly retorts as a huff of air escapes him with his silent laugh. His moving shoulders make my head bounce a little.
“Hey, now! You just asked me what my most embarrassing moment was.” I gasp, playfully swatting his chest with my free hand. “Turnabout is fair play.”
“A tampon string hanging out isn’t that embarrassing.”
I lift up to my elbow and gaze down at him with narrowed eyes. His arm that isn’t currently being used as my pillow comes off the bed, and one long, oddly sexy finger pushes some of my wild hair out of my face.
“A tampon string hanging out while on the stage of a sold-out concert sure is! Seriously, you don’t get the mortification level of that, being a man and all, but it was terrible.”
His shoulders shake, deep rumbles of his manly chuckles escaping him. I’m momentarily struck dumb by the small smile, but I give my head a shake in an attempt to clear what I’ve been lovingly referring to as the ‘brain-dead buzz’ caused by his smile. I’ve been proud of my ability to adapt when it comes to what this man does to me.
His lips part, those teeth come out—teeth that I now know feel deliriously good when they’re on my body—and his small smile turns broad and big. Okay, I’m clearly not that good at adapting because he starts laughing even harder as I zone out, just taking him in.
“We’re going to have to work on that.” He laughs, still smiling like the handsome devil he is.
“I’m not sure I can,” I tell his mouth.
“Baby, you keep making me as happy as I feel right now, and you’re going to have to. Otherwise, it’s going to get fucking awkward when you just keep spacing out all the time.”
“Whatever,” I mumble in mock irritation, dropping back to cuddle into his side.
Maybe if I can’t see the smile, I can hold a reasonably adult conversation with him.
“About two years ago, my best friend and his girl had some bad shit going on. She was about eight or so months pregnant with their first son when a man who had been stalking her was able to get through me. Because of that, they almost lost everything that they had finally found together. I will always, until the day I die, regret that I allowed that to almost happen.”
I had almost forgotten I asked him a question, and his words didn’t make sense at first. Unsure what to say or how to proceed without him closing me off again, I lift up and look at him. The smile is long gone from his mouth now and in its place are grim lines that prove just how much of a regret that memory is. Sensing there is more to the story than what little he’s said, I proceed with caution, making sure to choose my words wisely.
“Tell me what happened, Chance.”
His head turns away from me and I follow his gaze toward the bright sky beyond my windows.
“A lot of the attack I don’t remember. I know what happened leading up to it, and what Dani and I were doing, but the rest is just what I’ve been told. We were helping them move Cohen’s stuff out of our apartment. Her brother and another friend of ours were dealing with moving Cohen’s monster TV outside, and I was helping Dani inside. The next thing I know, I’m waking up in the hospital with a knife wound to my shoulder and the worst fucking headache from my concussion. All I could remember was that Dani needed the packaging tape. Of all things, that’s what I focused on. Cohen’s girl, though, she’s a fighter, but if just the slightest second had been different, she might not be here. Cohen would have lost her and their son, and it would have been all on me.”
My head ticks to the side, and I feel my brows pull in. “Tell me what you could have done differently, having been attacked yourself from behind with no chance to protect yourself.” I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but knowing that he blamed himself for something I have a feeling he had no control over kills me. “Were you the only one who was in charge of keeping her safe that day? Where were your other friend and her brother? Obviously, the attacker was able to get past them too. Do the other two people who were with you—who weren’t able to prevent this—blame themselves too?”
“I was the only one in the room with her, Wren. I might not have been the only one in charge of her, but I was the only one there to make sure of it. Liam and Nate couldn’t have done shit since they were in the parking lot. The sick fuck came from the floor above us.”
I shift, sitting up and climb on his lap to straddle his hips, one leg on each side of his hips. I ignore the feeling of his thickness against my well-loved pussy. Now is definitely not the time to get distracted.
“Let me get this straight. You were moving things in and out, right?” He nods. “Two of the other men weren’t around, so my guess is they didn’t make sure they locked up when they went out—something you would have expected of them—meaning they played a part in giving someone easy access. Either way, someone blindly ambushed you. Shit happens, Chance. I’m not trying to say it doesn’t suck that shit happened to good friends of yours, but you can’t control every aspect of your life. Is it harder when it happens to people who you care about, damn right, but no matter what, shit will always happen. You just have to focus on the positive—that being that you’re alive, she’s alive, and her son is alive. The other people who were with you could have been in that room too, and that person could have attacked you all—hurting you all. Don’t beat yourself up over something you didn’t even have a chance to prevent.”
“You do realize that you’re telling the man in charge of your protection that I shouldn’t beat myself up over failing to protect someone.” The harsh lines of his scowl ease from his face, and I let out a breath of relief.
“We are never guaranteed a second in life, Chance. In the time I’ve known you, I’ve seen you put nothing but your all into everything you do to keep us safe. You’re alert to your surroundings, prepared for things in advance, and ready for the unexpected. All you can do is give yourself the best chance to succeed in all that you do. When it comes down to it, I know you’ll give your all to me, and the rest will happen as it’s meant to.”
“You really believe that, don’t you,” he asks in awe, my words hopefully hitting the spot.
“I do. I really do. And I hope you can too.”
“For years, they’ve been telling me that I wasn’t to blame, but all it takes is my not wife to lay it out straight for me, and shockingly, I actually feel like what you said might be true. God, woman, what kind of witchcraft do you have inside that tempting little body?”
I shrug. “Everything happens for a reason. I didn’t always feel that way, but I finally realized that as long as we give every situation our best, we’ve given ourselves the best chance to succeed in life. If you trip up on the way, then you figure out what you can learn from those stumbles or falls. No matter how painful it might be when we do falter, you have to be able to learn from your past, take something positive from it, and never let it hurt you again.”
The silence ticks on as his eyes roam my face, studying my words and me at the same time. A few minutes later, one side of his mouth tips up, and shockingly, the sight doesn’t kill my ability to function—thank God. “You know, I’ve never thought about it that way,” he rasps, lifting up to curl his hand behind my neck. Curling his body up, he pulls me gently toward him—our lips meeting in the softest kiss.
“Stick with me, hubby. Told you, we’re going to put all those destroyed pieces back together, o
ne fucked-up past at a time,” I whisper against his mouth.
He shifts and pulls me down with him, pressing another light kiss on my lips. I roll to the side, a little sad to lose the pressure of his cock against my center, but even that doesn’t take away the high I have of being skin to skin with this man in my bed. I’ll get his cock later.
“What about your past?” he hedges a little hesitantly. I don’t think either of us thought a silly game of twenty questions would turn so emotionally heavy. “I know about the shit boyfriends, but I know that isn’t all of it.”
“How do you know?” I evade.
“You told me you felt empty. That even living the high life, you felt that way… like something was missing. You said your past had hurt you and that you had to learn to let people get close enough, even if they might hurt you. People, not men. You had to let people get close.”
“You got all of that because I didn’t specify the gender?”
“Who hurt you? Who made you afraid to let others close?”
I shift, settling in with my back to his chest and look out the window again. “My parents.”
“And …” he adds, encouraging me to continue.
“Weston and me … we were mistakes. Accidents. Whatever you call a pregnancy that isn’t wanted but kept, even though I know they don’t have some grand moral clause that would have prevented them from terminating us. It’s been Wes and me against the world. Our parents hated us, didn’t hide that, and blamed us for them not making anything of their lives. When we moved into the trailer park we lived in growing up, Luke and Jamison were our neighbors. The second we met, the two of us became four, and the struggle growing up wasn’t as bad. They had shitty parents too, so our bond solidified over our need to protect and care for each other. We ate more frequently and didn’t spend the majority of our days dirty and smelling like trash. Hey, how about you ease up the hold, hulk.” I come out of my memories when his lazy grip on my hip gets tight in the middle of my trip down memory lane, trying to sound carefree even when the ghosts of childhood past are thick in the room.
“Sorry,” he grumbles. “Go on.”
“They didn’t touch us physically. They used their words instead of their fist. They didn’t care for us, though, and even to this day, I have no idea how Child Protective Services didn’t intervene. We were dirty more often than not, malnourished, and never had clothing that fit right. When Wes and I found music, though, it was the last straw for them. They didn’t just hate us anymore; they hated us.”
“Why because of music?” he asks befuddled.
I get his confusion. Out of everything I said, it does sound odd that our musical talent would be the tipping point for our crappy parents.
“Before we came around, they were just about to sign a recording deal. When I say just, I mean my mom puked during one of their final negotiation meetings, and it apparently slipped out that she was pregnant. The label decided they didn’t want to sign them after finding out their lives were a little more complicated. We, according to them, stole their chance at their dream, and then when they realized how good we were, I think they looked at it as us stealing that dream all over again.”
His breath leaves his body in a rush, tickling the hair at the top of my head. “That’s fucked up.”
I smile, despite the fact that I hate talking about my parents. Leave it to Chance to put it so simply. “Pretty much.”
“How did you find something positive out of that, Wren? A normal person would have let that mark them for life.”
I ponder his words, thinking back to my chat with Weston. “I don’t think I did completely, not until very recently, to be honest. I always looked at that time in my life as being worth it because I had my brother, Luke, and Jamison—who are as much my brothers as Wes is—and in the middle of all that, we found music. But it was pointed out to me recently that I let them and their greed for what we have—coupled with the greed of a few jerks I dated—make me jaded. God, I was even letting my love for music turn cynical. I had forgotten to look for the positive. But once I remembered what it was like to see things in a light that wasn’t burned out and wary of others’ motives—well, let’s just say it isn’t so hard to deal with those memories. Not when I look at my life now and think it might have been worth those years if they brought me to where I am now.”
“Was that just us putting a destroyed piece back together for you?” he asks softly.
“Yeah, Chance. It definitely was.” I smile and turn, pressing even closer as he adjusts his body to allow me to curl into his side. The heaviness of our lazy afternoon chat settles over us, the mood turning almost peaceful now that we both got something so heavy off our chests.
“I’m really happy,” I say, softly and hesitantly.
“I am too, Wren. I am too.”
“I know we haven’t known each other long, but you know more about me than anyone outside of my guys. The people who think they love me—they love the Wrenlee of Loaded Replay. They obsess over that girl, thinking that they know all there is to know about her—but they don’t know me. No one besides my guys and Dyllan do. Until now. It’s … well, it’s just important to me that you know that.”
His arm gives me a squeeze, his hand traveling from where it had been curled around my shoulder in slow movements until he touches my hip. His fingers flex, pads digging into my naked flesh. I lift my leg up to lay over his body, feeling the heat of his cock against my thigh.
“Thank you for giving me you,” he hums into the silence.
“Don’t hurt me.” The words are out before I realize I didn’t think them but spoke them, and I wish I could stuff them back in.
“The last thing I want is to hurt you.”
“You have the power to do it, though. Like I said, we haven’t known each other long, but regardless, I find I’m becoming addicted to the way you make me feel.”
He’s silent for so long, my eyes grow heavy, and I feel my body relax even more into him.
“The only other time I felt something close to this was right before my fiancée changed the way I looked at everything.”
Well, I’m wide-awake now. I sit up, his hand falling from my side, and turn to look at him. Chills wash over me, and my stomach bubbles with unease.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
Wren moved so quickly. One second, she was soft and compliant in my arms, and the next, she was sitting next to me, naked as the day she was born, looking like she was about to throw up and kill me at the same time.
I think back to what I just told her, having been so lost in my head and the odd sense of happiness this woman makes me feel, that I didn’t even hesitate to tell her about Jessica—someone who I’ve worked really hard not to tell anyone about. Ever. Having a hard time recalling my words, my silence only infuriates her more. I watch the color rise on her skin, wishing it was there again because of what I was doing to her body and not because I pissed her off.
“I was trying to agree with you about becoming addicted to how you make me feel but point out that if anyone has anything to worry about, it would be me.” That is what I said, right? Fuck. I didn’t think she would get pissed about it, though.
“Chance,” she seethed deeply, her mouth hardly moving to say my name.
“What, Wren? It’s true. This feeling I have now is nothing even close to what I thought I had with her, and I had years to build that up before I felt it with her. Years. I know you for not even two full fucking weeks, and it doesn’t just surpass what I thought I knew; it blows it out of the fucking water. So yeah … I get being scared of someone hurting you.”
“You said your fiancée.”
I pause. I was halfway off my back, reaching for her, when she spoke. I replay the last five minutes. My eyes widen when I realize that I had been so lost in my memories of Jessica’s betrayal that I referred to her in the present tense. Wren looks seconds away from running, so I move quickly
to grab her and roll, so her body is under mine—trapped between the mattress and me.
“Let me go,” she fumes, refusing to make eye contact with me. She’s looking away and to the side, giving me her profile.
“Never,” I vow, knowing that I’m not just talking about right now. No fucking way would I give this woman up—even though we’re still very much getting to know each other, I doubt anything would be able to make me give her up.
“I can’t believe you let me be the other woman. I’m not that person, Chance, no matter what people think of celebrities. I would never cheat or help someone cheat. Relationships should be sacred. Oh, my God.”
“I’m not engaged, Wren.”
I get her attention with that. Her head snaps from the side, giving me her furious blue eyes. “You said your fiancée,” she reminds me.
“Yeah, I know what I said, Wren. You want to curb that attitude and let me explain myself?”
She deflates slightly but not much.
“I get your anger. I would be pissed too, but I’m not engaged. It was a slip of the tongue.”
Her body relaxes more. The anger dimming slightly. Not completely, but enough that I know she’s listening to me.
“If I roll off you, are you going to run?” I ask, concerned that she isn’t comfortable with my weight on her like this.
“Don’t you dare,” she grunts and shifts her body. I had pinned her legs down with my swift movement but was balancing my weight on my elbows and feet while she adjusts her position. Her legs come out, spreading, and wait for me to settle back down.
Taking this as a good sign, I relax my body and let it cover hers once again. This time my cock hits her wet heat, growing harder. She widens her legs with a shimmy of her hips, her pussy lips spreading with her movements to welcome my cock with a hug. I feel the wetness from the tip of my cock against my belly, the warmth of her cunt on the bottom of my cock and balls making my eyes cross with need. She brings her legs up, hooking them behind my back, and digs her heels into the small of my back.
